The Big Bing: Black Holes Of Time Management, Gaseous Executive Bodies, Exploding Careers, And Other Theories On The Origins Of The Business Universe

The Big Bing Black Holes of Time Management, Gaseous Executive Bodies, Exploding Careers, and Other Theories on the Origins of the Business Universe Stanley Bing To Adam Smith and Joseph Stalin, both of whom have informed my understanding of corporate culture. n C ONTENTS Introduction vii 1. The Tao of How: Strategies, Tactics, and Diversionary Activities Latte Break: Are You a World-Class Liar? 1 28 2. Friends, Enemies, and Consultants Latte Break: The Bing Ethics Test 31 59 3. You Da Man! Or, Why We Love the Boss Latte Break: What’s Your EQ? 62 87 4. Tales from the Political Crypt Latte Break: Casey at the Mouse 90 120 5. Big Tech Attack Latte Break: What’s Your Sign? 123 153 6. On the Road Again (and Again) Latte Break: So, Are Ya Havin’ Fun? 156 184 7. The Human Animal Latte Break: Twenty Good Reasons to Cry 188 209 8. The Man Show Latte Break: The Auditor 211 236 vi | Contents 9. This Just In: Stuff That Really Happened Latte Break: The Love Song of Alfred E. Neuman 239 278 10. What, Me Worry? Latte Break: The Broker: A Poem of Gothic Horror 281 314 11. Up and Out Latte Break: Business Haiku 316 341 Last Words (for the time being) 345 Acknowledgments About the Author By Stanley Bing Credits Cover Copyright About the Publisher n I NTRODUCTION Sometimes I think about my first office job, and what a great distance I have come since then. And, you know, not. This was about twenty years ago. Wanting to retain my dream of being an actor, I went in search of a part-time job at that intersection of idle humanity, Forty-second Street and Fifth Avenue, its buildings honeycombed with buzzing personnel agencies. The first one I hit put me to work in its own telephone-marketing division. From 9 A.M. to 1 P.M., five days a week, we sold human labor to potential employers, drubbing each client with insistent calls until they agreed to have one of our “prescreened and tested temporary or permanent people.” The office was beige-on-beige. In the outer cubicle sat Tony, our supervisor: small, dark, and wiry as a terrier. He was the head and guts of our five-person division. Tony had put each of us through our basic training, leading us painstakingly over the inane sales pitch, exhorting us to work into a rhythm, to go for the kill, to close the sale. After hours of slogging through this mire, I was ready. “Good morning,” I would begin in a mellifluous tone, “This is Stanley Bing over at Job Cruisers. How are you this morning?” At this point, most potential clients would terminate the call. To those who didn’t, I then said, “I was wondering how I could help you with your personnel needs this morning.” Tony considered this particular phraseology crucial. “Never ask if you can help them,” he stressed, tiny fists clenched emphatically. “That gives them an opportunity to say no. When you ask how you can help them, the worst they can say is: ‘You can’t.’ ” viii | Introduction After a week and 300 or so cold calls into the void, I had yet to make a sale. I was bombing. My cell mate, Sally, her angular profile gripped with the determination of the chase, would chide the recalcitrant client: “You have no needs? Really? Somehow I find that a little difficult to believe!” And wonder of wonders, some nimrod on the other end of the line would give Sally an order. In my first week, while I was still eating dirt, Sally wrote up fifteen. She also had a lot of amusing telephone fights with her mother. One morning she screamed, “It’s not true!” seven times in a row, an